Auum felt the mood change. Methian was still speaking but now he was directing the minds of the Apposans to the coming fight. Axe blades were being sharpened, short bows strung and prayers begun that would not cease until blood was spilled.
Auum turned to Elyss.
‘You take care of yourself,’ he said softly. ‘I will keep you in my sight.’
‘You will do no such thing,’ said Elyss. ‘Fight as you always have. To do otherwise is to risk yourself.’
‘But-’
‘No,’ said Elyss sharply. ‘Nothing matters but defeating the humans. Nothing.’
Auum felt stung. He glanced at Ulysan, who quickly turned his head away.
In an act of bitterness and petulance that was wholly unsurprising, Jeral had been ordered to lead the army into the narrow steep-sided valley. The rain had been as hard as he’d ever known it since he’d arrived on Calaius three years before and the mulch and mud would churn horribly underfoot before two hundred men had marched in, let alone three thousand.
The valley boasted a fast-running tributary that was shallow enough to cross with ease, and the army marched five abreast, split two and three either side of the water. Jeral’s plan had been adopted in its entirety. Mages and Sharps walked in single file within a twin skin of warriors. No mage walked on the flanks, and the warriors who did had standing orders to retreat if they encountered any trouble whatsoever.
‘Your lot know what to do?’
‘We won’t let you down,’ said Hynd.
‘It’s not just important; it’ll win us the day if we are attacked. No one can deviate from their brief.’
‘I get it,’ said Hynd. ‘Look, just because you’re effectively on trial-’
‘Damn right I am.’ Jeral felt good about it though, really good. He grinned at Hynd. ‘Best part is that, despite my advice, our trio of fools have chosen to travel in the centre of the army. At least Lockesh was listening to me.’
‘Lockesh just wants to be first out the other end.’
‘Yeah well, he’ll have to push past me first,’ said Jeral.
He looked around him. The valley sides along which the point troops were moving were dense with trees and bushes. He couldn’t see them even though they were only ten yards above him, and that thought made him nervous. He had to trust that their line of sight down to the valley floor was better.
Above them, the canopy was unbroken and the few mages flying as spotters would be able to see nothing at all. They’d be more use on the ground, but Lockesh had refused to travel without mages in the air, even though they only gave the illusion of a tactical advantage.
Every pace they took brought more of the same: rain, thick green vegetation and slippery, shifting ground underfoot. But after two hours of peaceful marching, the men were beginning to relax.
‘Idiots,’ he breathed. ‘Pass the word back, Hynd. We aren’t even at the point of greatest risk yet. I want to know the moment the last man enters the jaws of the valley.’
‘And then?’
‘If this is an ambush, that’s when the jaws will snap shut.’
Very soon afterwards, he received word that the army was now completely within the valley.
‘Now we go to work,’ Hynd whispered.
Above the battering of the rain, the valley sides had begun to rumble.
Grafyrre heard the destiny of the elves; he prayed the humans heard their deaths. The palm trunks had been dragged aside and the logs cascaded over each other, gathering momentum with frightening speed and thundering down the valley side, jostling and bouncing as if the wood fought to be the first to crush and break an invader.
Grafyrre held up his hands, keeping his party back. Across the valley, he knew Merrat would have released his log run as well. Timing was critical. If the elves arrived too early they would meet a similar fate to that which they wished upon the humans. Too late and their enemy might have time to regroup.
Below him, the logs forced their own route. Most barrelled straight down the intended path but others were knocked askance and rebounded from trees to either side of the cleared route, or turned on their ends and spun through the lower branches of the canopy. Grafyrre estimated the moment the enemy would see what was coming for them and visualised their reaction. He prayed he had it right.
Grafyrre dropped one arm. The Apposans came to ready, weapons free. He nodded at his Tais, Allyne and Borrune.
‘Yniss guide our hands,’ he whispered.
Grafyrre dropped his other hand. The TaiGethen sprang forward, leaving the Apposans in their wake. Mayhem first, bludgeoning hatred second. Grafyrre sprinted ahead with the TaiGethen, following the log avalanche.
He prayed while he ran and his strength grew. Yniss guided his footfalls and the air in his lungs broadened his senses. Life smelled sweet, looked more beautiful than ever and sounded like the death of man. The Scar was alive with the thunder of logs rushing towards the soft flesh and brittle bones of the enemy. Tual’s denizens were scattering into the sky and the upper boughs of the canopy. Below them, on the valley floor, the humans would hear their doom approaching and the panic would be spreading among them like a disease carried on foul water.
Grafyrre felt his cell with him. Allyne cruised down the slope with that easy sprinting style Grafyrre had always envied. Borrune, head thrust forward and eyes wide, charged ahead. He hurdled a dip in the ground and ploughed on. Below them, the logs were battering down the low brush.
Grafyrre heard one shatter against a standing tree along with the thudding sounds of collisions and rebounds. The forest echoed to the tumult, eclipsing all else. It was a benefit he hadn’t considered. If it raised his heart rate, it must be chilling the enemy to the bone.
Under his feet, the gradient lessened very slightly. The logs had left scars in the ground, catching up mud and leaf litter to further increase the weight that would strike the invaders. Grafyrre counted back from ten. Now. Now he could hear the cries of alarm and the drone of thousands of human voices finally seeing what was hammering down the sides of the valley towards them.
And at the last he could see them. Standing still and facing outwards. The logs tumbled over one another, bounced and spun and struck. Blue light flared up, guttered and died, and the men who had been cowering behind it were obliterated. Grafyrre exulted at the sight and charged in, bounding across still-moving logs with complete assurance.
The sheer scale of the noise in the Scar was extraordinary; thousands of logs colliding with one another as they bounced off magical shields or crashed through them, destroying whoever lay within. Grafyrre yelled orders to his Tai but he would not be heard. Beneath his feet, the muddy ground was covered with bodies and ran red with human blood.
Grafyrre turned south. Just ahead, soldiers cringed behind a shield that had not been struck. Grafyrre raced towards them, Allyne and Borrune on his flanks.
‘Target the mages.’
Soldiers came at them, spreading across the base of the valley. Grafyrre ducked beneath the sweep of a long blade. He shoulder-barged the wielder aside and carried on running. More soldiers were filling the path ahead. Grafyrre pulled out a jaqrui and threw it. Here, within the magical shield, the weapon flew true and sliced deep into the wrist of a warrior raising his sword to protect his face.
Allyne joined him. Borrune had turned back to face the line they had brushed past. Grafyrre drew his swords. He crossed the few paces and hammered his right-hand blade into the injured man’s skull, knocking him down. Using the momentum of the strike, Grafyrre spun on his right foot and lashed his left into another’s chest.
Grafyrre’s move brought him round to face more of the enemy. He dragged his right blade across the neck of a third man and chopped the left past a fourth’s defence and into his side, feeling the sharp edge bite through to the spine. He glanced left. Allyne was airborne. He turned a forward roll and landed in the midst of a group of mages.